Love and Sex and Loneliness
by Raidne Fern
Summary: Slightly silly smut. Koltira/Thassarian. Thassarian and Koltira meet in Unu'pe Village, Borean Tundra, and while Death Gripping each other's runeblades they inadvertently vandalize a poor tuskarr's inn.


It was a rare, clear day on the coast of the Tundra. Bright and cold, the wan northern sun, thinly veiled by strands of high, wispy cloud, shone like a lamplight seen through fog. The wind was whipping in across the frigid sea, causing the decorative flags and banners of Unu'pe Village to dance and snap. Thassarian stood at the edge of the permafrost, gazing out over the slate-grey waves, waiting.

Dusk gave a high whinny, pawing the ground, and Thassarian turned to watch the horse and rider, still distant and partly obscured by the gentle rise and fall of the tundra, approach from the northeast. His heart leapt in his chest. As Bloodmist drew nearer, he saw Koltira raise his hand in greeting. Thassarian couldn't help it; he grinned. It had been too long, as always.

Koltira tied Bloodmist to the hitching post next to Dusk, and the chargers happily butted against one another, snapping playfully, rattling their tack. Koltira turned, and Thassarian saw that he was panting slightly, breath streaming in the freezing air; the exertion of hard riding had winded him. Thassarian's chest ached with a surge of affection and desire.

They stood, silent for a moment; hesitant, unsure. To Thassarian's surprise, Koltira abruptly closed the space between them and embraced him roughly.

"Not so long, next time," Koltira said, turning slightly to speak in Thassarian's ear, sending a shiver up his spine. Koltira clapped him on the back and stepped away. He was smiling mischievously.

Thassarian had to try very hard, then, not to take Koltira right there, out in the open, on the ice floes under the pale sun. He cleared his throat.

"The innkeep almost wouldn't agree to let us a room. He seems afraid we might be planning to duel or kill each other or some such faction-warring nonsense. Ruin his sealskins."

"Well, it's a little late to prevent that. The killing, that is," Koltira said wryly, touching his breastplate, the place under which lay the scar. "Shall we?" he said, eyes darting in the direction of the inn. There was a note of urgency that piqued Thassarian's curiosity. Koltira was rarely so straightforward and open about initiating their trysts. He had no objections, however, and he inclined his head in concurrence, gesturing toward the squat hovel at the far end of the larger main structure, allowing Koltira to lead the way.

When they entered their tiny, cramped room, which contained several piles of soft sealskins and a small, merrily blazing fire pit, Koltira glanced around cursorily, turned, said "hm, cozy" dismissively, and pinned Thassarian with a crash of armor against the wall. There was a rather ominous ripping sound as one of the stretched sealskins that covered the walls caught on one of the sharp spikes of Thassarian's pauldrons. Unconcerned, Koltira crushed his mouth against Thassarian's, sliding his tongue across their lips. He made a sound of frustration in his throat and stepped back, tugging at the straps and buckles of Thassarian's heavy armor, which was so bulky that it was forcing Koltira to strain his neck uncomfortably to reach him. Laughing, still somewhat taken aback by Koltira's uncharacteristic enthusiasm, Thassarian caught his chin in one hand and forced him to look into his eyes. Koltira's eyes were wide with undisguised lust, streaming blue, like the fringe of light on the skyline between the gloaming and sunset, and he stared at Thassarian expectantly.

"I've missed you, Tira," he said softly, and pressed his lips to Koltira's, tenderly, twining his fingers in the long, soft hair at the base of Koltira's neck.

Koltira sighed, pausing for a moment, eyelids sliding down languidly, and then they snapped open again. "Damned armor!" he said, and continued struggling feverishly to remove the interfering breastplate, while Thassarian laughed. When Koltira made it to his legplates, sliding his hands up Thassarian's thighs and nearly to his groin, he finally acquiesced to his urgent advances with a low groan and began unbuckling Koltira's armor as well.

When they were down to nothing but their breeches, Koltira sank to his knees and loosened the ties that held in Thassarian's now-painfully-hard erection. Koltira ran his tongue slowly from the base to the tip, string of saliva and precum stretching between as he pulled away, and Thassarian clutched Koltira's hair with a gasp, arching his back, as Koltira suddenly took his entire length into his cool mouth all the way to the back of his throat. He swirled his tongue expertly around the head as he sucked, and then slid Thassarian's cock into the space between his soft cheek and slick teeth, stroking, and the contrast of the two sensations was so intense that Thassarian had to pull away for fear of ending it too quickly.

He looked down at Koltira, who was holding onto his hips loosely, his parted lips poised at the tip of his cock, a bead of precum welling out, and a sudden overwhelming desire took him. Thassarian grabbed him under the armpits and pulled him to his feet, pushing him firmly toward the bed of furs.

Thassarian lay Koltira down, wrenching his breeches aside, taking his cock in one hand, and Koltira wet his fingers on his tongue, arching into Thassarian's grasp and reaching down to prepare himself.

Thassarian held his wrist, stopping him. He lay on his back, lifting Koltira bodily to lie on top of him, and he used one hand to grip both of their erections together, stroking firmly. Koltira panted, groaning with need and arousal. Thassarian used his other hand to pull Koltira's open mouth to his, biting his lip, hard. Still stroking, trailing bites up Koltira's neck, he found he could stand it no longer; his desire had become acute to the point of pain, a pain he usually associated with blood-hunger. He needed Koltira, every bit of him, filling him, finding his release in him.

"Take me this time. Please," Thassarian rasped, and Koltira gave him a swift, searching look. His brow furrowed, but he nodded, swallowing nervously. Thassarian felt his throat tighten, nervous himself.

Koltira shifted, licking his fingers again, but Thassarian pulled Koltira's hand to his own mouth and ran his tongue between Koltira's fore and middle fingers, sucking them into his mouth, coating them in saliva. Koltira, seemingly transfixed by the sight, rolled his eyes up and lowered his chin to his chest; exhaled with a huff; thrust his cock against Thassarian's. Thassarian released his hand and Koltira moved the slick fingers down to gently press against Thassarian's entrance.

"Relax," he said, and Thassarian nodded, bearing down, and Koltira slid his middle finger into him, deep, rotating gently, and unexpectedly hit a spot that made Thassarian grit his teeth and moan, his back arching involuntarily. He gripped Koltira's arm, forcing him deeper.

"There you go," Koltira murmured, and pressed his index finger in as well, thrusting steadily. Thassarian's hand and cock, still sliding against Koltira's, were slick with precum.

"Please, Koltira—" he begged, his blood-hunger peaking in a rush of pain and longing, and Koltira needed no further invitation. The color, redolent of his glowing blue markings, was high in his cheeks as he positioned himself and pressed into Thassarian, filling him, gasping, parting his legs for leverage, bowing his head, push and pull. Thassarian grasped Koltira's lower back and arched, pulling Koltira in, wanting, needing him to hit as deep inside him as possible. Koltira obliged, thrusting harder, stroking Thassarian's cock in one hand and gripping his hip with the other.

Everything, every single thing in the world was Koltira: the press of his cock; the tips of his long hair brushing along Thassarian's stomach as he thrust; the glow of his eyes; the sinuous movement of his tattoos; his short, quick breaths, acute with ecstasy; his hands, soft and cool and smooth. Every stroke hit the place, deep inside him, where the pleasure turned mindless and blank, drawing him closer, in time with Koltira's hand stroking him.

Koltira suddenly focused on Thassarian's face, gritting his teeth, cheeks flushed, and choked out, "Thass—tell me, now, if you don't wish for me to…"

Thassarian stared at him, nonplussed. _Asking permission?_ He gripped Koltira's hips. "Come in me. _Now,_" he ordered, and watched with satisfaction as Koltira's eyes lost focus.

"_Anar—belore, dalah'serfal…" _Koltira slipped into clipped Thalassian as he gave one last powerful thrust and came, so intensely that it caused one of his eyelids to slide down, spasming. His jaw slack, lower lip quivering, he cried out and dug his fingernails into Thassarian's side, hard enough to draw blood. Thassarian had been holding on, for a long time now, and seeing Koltira, feeling him pulse inside him, was more than enough to send him over, and as the white, blinding tension peaked he closed his hand over Koltira's on his cock and gripped hard, spilling his orgasm onto his chest and stomach, toes curling, kicking out, and his groan turned into a yelp as a sudden blazing pain seared through his foot. He shot upright, pulling himself away from it, and saw that he had kicked over the pit of flaming coals and wood, which were now merrily burning holes in several of the sealskins on the floor. Cursing, Thassarian hopped on his good foot, clutching the burned one, while Koltira attempted to sweep the coals back into the cast-iron bowl with one of the sealskins, which was now fully ablaze. Upon noting this, Koltira rushed to the doorflap and unceremoniously hurled the skin outside into the snow. Turning back into the room, he rushed to pat out the various other small fires and gingerly plunked a few stray coals back into the pit.

Straightening, he and Thassarian surveyed the destruction. Around half of the sealskins, some smouldering, smelling strongly of singed hair, had holes burnt in them; the sealskin that had caught on Thassarian's armor was now hanging rather despondently from the wall, tattered; and ash and soot, scattered while Thassarian had hopped around, had effectively coated nearly everything in the room.

"Well. Ah…we could tell the innkeeper that we _did _duel," Koltira said, sheepish, and he and Thassarian looked at each other, taking in their ridiculous appearances: naked and covered in soot. They simultaneously burst into uproarious laughter.

* * *

A/N: _"Anar['alah] belore, dalah'serfal" _translates to "by the [light] of the sun, my love."


End file.
